


I will shelter you in this broken vessel

by SelkieWife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Shame, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Theonsa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelkieWife/pseuds/SelkieWife
Summary: A future fic where Theon and Sansa reunite in the North. LOTS of emotional hurt/comfort. The characters belong to George R.R. Martin and HBO Game of Thrones. I don't own them. This is primarily a show fic but it has elements of ASOIAF as well. Spoilers for GOT Season 6.Thank you to Lordhellebore for kindly looking over the fic for me and to drownedandflayed (tumblr) who encouraged me to write the fic in the first place. This is my first fan fic attempt and I've been really influenced by the Theon fan fiction of Lordhellebore, Amelia041223, janie_tangerine, singedbylife, mrs-storm-andrews and the RPs of drownedandflayed on Tumblr.*Warning- Theon blames himself for not saving Sansa when Ramsay assaulted her. I believe it is in character for him to feel this way, but I do not agree with him as he is an abuse survivor who was reliving his own trauma when he saw it happening to her.





	1. Chapter 1

Consciousness broke upon Theon in a rush of cold sweat. At first he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was supposed to be. But then his eyes adjusted to the dark cavernous guest chamber in Winterfell. He was here with his sister and the Dragon Queen. Here to secure an alliance with the Starks and the North. He began muttering anxiously between sharp intakes of breath, “I’m Theon... Theon... I know my name.” Sansa had been standing in front of him, her wedding gown torn, her wounds exposed, tears running down her face, bloodied lips trembling. But now the image of her had faded into the shadows. Another nightmare. “I’m sorry” he whispered into the darkness. “I’m so sorry.”

The cold hardness of the floor beneath him provided a certain stability and comfort as he rocked back and forth, attempting to calm himself. Finally, he struggled to his feet, wrapping the blanket he had taken off the bed around him as he shivered violently. Yara would be upset with him, sleeping on the floor like a dog. She had found him there during their first night in Winterfell. He had woken her with his screams. He cringed at the memory. She made him promise that he would sleep in the bed, but it was another promise he had been unable to keep... he was regressing. He wasn’t sure how long Yara would put up with the broken wretch of a person he had become. Yara... the only person in the world who truly loved him who had accepted him after everything he had done. Well, maybe not the only person... a sudden memory of Sansa’s warm welcome flooded his mind.

She had embraced him- _him_. In front of everyone. She had wrapped her arms around him instead of recoiling in disgust as he stood there under the cold eyes of Jon, soon to be King in the North, and Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen. At first he just stood there bewildered, reveling in the sweetness of her unexpected touch- just as he had done when they parted ways after their escape from Ramsay. He didn’t feel he had the right to touch her. But when she didn’t show any sign of letting go he had tentatively put his arm around her shoulder, relieved that his gloves covered the empty spaces where his fingers should have been. After a bit, he had gently pulled away from her and softly said, “m'lady” as he lowered his eyes.

He had then moved stiffly to where Jon stood and struggled to raise his eyes to meet his. Jon had stared back at him with a mixture of confusion and pity. Theon had quickly looked back down. An apology was required but how do you apologize for destroying someone’s family and their home? For betraying Robb... What words could ever be enough? “Your Grace,” he had begun haltingly, “I.. I know can never make amends to your family for the things I’ve done..."

"I'm not your Grace, Greyjoy" Jon had interrupted gruffly. The harshness of his voice had made Theon shrink with shame and Sansa had quickly intervened.

"You will be" she told Jon with a look of solidarity and support toward her half brother that Theon did not remember from their childhood. She had turned then to Theon and said gently, "There will be time to talk of this later." She was right of course. It would be better if he were not there at all.. They all could concentrate on the negotiations without the awkwardness of his presence. He bowed his head and whispered, “Yes, m’lady.” And she had touched him again, placed her hand on his shoulder as though to comfort him.

Theon shivered with the memory of Sansa's impossible kindness toward him. He didn't deserve it. If he got what he deserved his burnt body would be hanging over Winterfell's gates... He saw them now. The bodies of the two little boys. Their corpses laid out on a table, stiffening and turning cold. The younger one’s belt had come undone. Theon had refastened it. _His waist was no bigger than the span of my hands ... They were brothers.... the older one trying to protect the younger one... that’s only right... the older should always protect the younger._ After refastening the belt that the child would never need again he had whispered, “I had no choice.” Theon’s chest curled into itself at the memory. He wished he had had different words to say. But instead he had stood in the presence of their corpses claiming he had no choice but to murder two innocent children. _I had every choice... But we slit their throats and burned their bodies so no one would know..._

A low moan escaped him as he suddenly remembered Rickon. He had heard about Ramsay's death before they had even reached The North but he hadn’t known of Rickon’s death until meeting with Sansa and Jon. He shut his eyes as if that could erase the memory of that wild child’s smiling face, a tiny version of Robb. _My fault... It’s all my fault..._ Another child’s death to add to his crimes. Another _brother’s_ death.

Since learning of Rickon’s death he had kept to himself, only appearing before the others when necessary or when Yara demanded it. He desperately didn’t want to add to their grief. He had already caused so much. But the nightmares had become worse. There would be no chance of sleep tonight he thought grimly as he began to unfasten his trousers to relieve himself. Perhaps he would walk for a while. He tried to relax and let his mind go away as he released his bladder. It had taken him a while to relearn how to piss without getting it everywhere- it had taken a while to have any control over it at all and even now that it was no longer painful, the shame and horror of it remained. He refastened himself and began to dress. Pulling his simple black cloak over himself, he picked up the lantern with shaking hands and left the chamber, softly closing the door behind him.

Winterfell felt eerie, plagued with too many ghosts. He wondered how Sansa managed to sleep here after everything that had passed. Theon suddenly felt Ramsay's eyes on him. His white teeth smiling in the darkness. He crashed to his knees, trying to catch his ragged breath. He tried to say his words but his voice came out in the humiliating whine of a beaten animal. Finally he managed to push the words out, "Theon" he said more forcefully than normal. "My name is Theon. Brother to Yara Greyjoy. And Ramsay Snow is dead." He felt his whole body cringe when he called Ramsay "Snow.” It felt like another betrayal. But he forced himself to say it again as he struggled to stand. It would have been easier if he had seen him dead himself. His head on a pike. It would have felt more real. Better still if he had been the one to kill him. To lay his head at Sansa's feet. But he had no idea if he would have been able to do it.

Would he have been brave enough to help Sansa had it been Ramsay standing there that day instead of Myranda? Would he have dared to harm The Master? _No, not Master.. Ramsay... Ramsay Snow... is dead... He was just... a man..._ He sank to his knees again muttering frantically as his breathing became more and more labored and chaotic. “Theon. My name is Theon. I know my name. I know my name.” This couldn't be happening. Not now. Yara needed him. She needed Theon Greyjoy. The real Theon Greyjoy she had said. But who was that? He didn’t know if he had ever known. And there was a horrible truth to face. He was afraid a small part of him had always been and would always be... Reek.

 _Reek_...his ragged armor against Ramsay. Reek the slave. Reek the craven creature who would do anything to survive. Reek was a coward and a freak- more worm than man. But there had been a terrible... peace in being Reek. A horrible sort of comfort. Reek had never betrayed a brother. Reek had never murdered little children.

His head swam as he doubled over, trying not to throw up. He managed to stagger outside and felt much steadier as the cold Northern air filled his lungs even as it sliced through his frail form. He had managed to put on weight and had even regained some muscle. But he was still alarmingly thin. Eating continued to be painful and he often didn't even have an appetite. In the kennels he would have eaten what the hounds had vomited up. But now, the creature who had once attempted to eat a live rat had to force himself to eat normal food.

He began hobbling in the direction of The Godswood. He couldn't say why. To pray? To beg forgiveness? To find Bran? He did not know but he had been drawn to the place since the night he knelt at the Heart Tree and prayed for death. The hard snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked, reminding him of the feeling of newly dried sand under his feet as a boy... _crushy sand_ he had called it because he had loved to crush it between his fingers and toes. Had he really ever been that gentle and innocent a child?

He bowed his head mournfully as he passed the kennels and finally found himself inside the Godswood. The hand that held the lantern began to shake... _Like Robb’s hands_ he thought distractedly. His grip was not what it use to be since Ramsay had done his work... He was afraid he would drop the lantern with his hand shaking this badly. The cold and the lantern- it reminded him of that night. Sansa’s wedding. She had looked so beautiful- cold and courageous as if she were made of iron flowers. And he had dressed in Robb’s clothes and given her away to a monster. But it was also here that he heard the Old Gods call his name. He stumbled closer to the haunted Heart Tree and hesitantly placed the lantern on the frozen ground.

There was a thin sheet of ice covering the top of the black pool where Lord Stark used to cleanse himself after an execution. He stared at the pool, wishing it could wash away his crimes as easily as it had absorbed the blood of the condemned into its darkness. As a child, he had once jumped into the pool. He had heard that there was no bottom. _If there is no bottom perhaps it will take me back to the sea. Back home to my mother and sister._ But he could never hold his breath long enough to return home no matter how many times he tried and after awhile he didn't even want to- after Robb had become his friend... his _brother... Robb..._ The ice was not too hard- just a thin sheet. He briefly thought of throwing himself into it. What a relief it would be to crash through the surface and let the dark depths take him- a sacrifice for the Drowned God and the Old Gods at once- claimed by both worlds at last.

"Theon."

He turned startled as he heard his name whispered.. The night had become still- the winds had stopped. Theon hardly dared to breathe. It was like this before when he last came to the Godwood, distraught after confessing to Sansa that her brothers were alive and certain that Ramsay would flay him for his disloyalty. He had knelt by this Heart Tree and cried, begging to die as Theon. And the Gods had heard him hadn't they? They hadn't granted death but they had allowed Sansa to save him. Sansa, the only one who knew his name. Maybe they would hear him again. He stared searchingly into the Heart Tree, hoping he would see Bran’s face again. _Bran... Robb... Rickon... Why am I still alive? How have the Gods let me live when you are dead..._

"Theon."

Theon started so violently that he stumbled against the tree and almost fell back into the icy pool. Sansa's hands reached out to steady him and he clutched her arms instinctively to avoid falling. "I'm sorry, m’lady, I didn't see you.. I'm sorry.." He was such a nuisance to everyone. His body still betrayed him at the slightest provocation. Though he knew he deserved it, he was weary of the constant humiliation. He had come so far since she last saw him and yet, here he was- trembling before her, endlessly begging forgiveness... Where was the confident boy he had once been? Where was that cocksure youth laughing at all the wrong things? Where was he? That boy was long since dead and his sly smiles were lost to another time, replaced with anxious apologies ever on his lips.

He felt Sansa's delicate hands on his shoulders and raised his eyes to meet hers. "It's Sansa, Theon. Not 'm'lady,' remember?"

"Sansa" he intoned. Then with sudden force, as if he had just awakened from a dream, "Sansa, it is freezing. What are you doing out here? Let me take you inside..."

"No, it's alright.. I was coming after you actually. I don't sleep well anymore." He nodded, understanding. "And when I saw you walking toward the Godswood from my window, I became- concerned. I came out here after you to make sure you were- safe." She glanced uneasily up at the tree. “What are you doing here?" Theon had no idea what to tell her. That he believed Bran was inside the Heart Tree? That the old Gods know his name?.. That he had been considering breaking through the ice in the black pool and ending his sorry existence? None of these explanations seemed acceptable.

"I.. m’lady- Sansa, I came out here because..." he was at a loss. All he could think was that she'd lost another brother and it was his fault. "Sansa, I am so sorry for Rickon's death."

"Theon. Listen to me. It is not your fault” she said, almost aggressively.

"Rickon died because of what I did,” he continued softly in spite of her objection. “My actions put him in that position... Sansa, I swore to myself I would never be the cause of your pain again. I am so very sorry." She reached her lovely hands out again and put them firmly on his shoulders as he willed himself not to flinch. He wondered how she could bear to touch him or be near him. It had been a long time since his days as Reek but somehow when he was standing near Sansa he still felt like that stinking wreck of a creature covered in his own blood and piss and shit.

"Theon, the Boltons were intent on taking the North. They murdered Robb and my Mother. How do you know they wouldn't have killed Bran and Rickon had you not taken Winterfell when you did?” Theon looked down, disconcerted. He had not thought of that before. Sansa's voice trembled but she pressed on. "You saved my life, Theon. The North will remember that as well. I forgive you. Jon will forgive you too... Eventually.”

There was a ghost of a smile on Theon's face at that. "Jon Snow will never forgive me. And I wouldn't either were I in his place."

"He _will_." Sansa insisted. "It's just... he blames himself for Robb's death. He feels like he should have been with him. He thought that at least you would be there to protect him.

Theon gazed at her, stricken. "I should have been." He owed. "I should have died with him." _Where was I?_ He smiled his sad trace of a smile again. "We have that in common then, Jon and I."

"You'd be surprised at how many things you and Jon have in common." Sansa said gravely. "Jon wants this alliance. He is tired of fighting. And he will accept you because you saved me. I told him how we jumped together. How tired I was and how you kept encouraging me to run. The countless times you came back for me when I was so weighed down by those wet skirts" she shivered at the memory. "And how at the very end, you gave yourself up to Ramsay.. just to give me a chance to get away. You threw away your own life as if it was nothing." Her voice broke on the last word and she inhaled raggedly as though she were about to cry. Her kindness toward him almost made him angry with her, as unfair and ungrateful as he knew that was.

"And did you tell him how long I let you be brutalized by that monster before I helped you?” He nearly spat out the words. “A better- a _man_ would have done so much more so much sooner.."

"Theon... "

"Did you tell him how I just stood there and did nothing to help you while he..." He stopped instantly when he saw the look on her face. Her eyes had deadened. It was as though the light had gone right out of them. He cringed with remorse and deep, deep shame. He had gone too far. In his wildest nightmares he had never thought they would speak of _that night._

"Say what you were going to say." Sansa said, her voice was low and dangerous.

_Look her in the eye Reek. An apology means nothing unless you are looking at the person._

The words... Ramsay's words flooded into his head unbidden. He forced himself to look at her. "I should have killed him." He whispered, devastated. "I should have died trying to protect you. Even if he had killed me. Even if I had failed. The fact that someone had tried to help you- I think it would have given you hope. I should have protected you but I didn't...." He swallowed back tears. "I count it among my worst crimes."

She gave him the longest saddest look and when she finally spoke her voice sounded higher and far away. "I kept thinking you might do something... You were standing there the whole time.. You saw... everything." There seemed to be more shame in her voice than accusation as she gasped back a sob and pulled her cloak around her as if she wanted to hide within herself. She continued bitterly, "But then, I was always waiting to be saved wasn't I? Arya would never have let that happen to her. She would have been ready with a knife hidden in her dress... I should have known. I should have known..."

Theon swallowed hard and lowered his head. Why had he said this to her when it was only going to hurt her? Did he care more about relieving his own guilt than her feelings? He was still as selfish as he had ever been. He cursed himself for reopening her wounds with his useless apology. Apologies mean nothing... They can't fix anything. That was the cruelest punishment of all... Regretting everything and being unable to fix anything.

When he was brave enough to look up he saw that Sansa was crying silently. She suddenly looked so alone and childlike. He wished he could reach out to her but he didn't dare. Sansa looked for a moment as if she were struggling with something and then she took a breath and whispered, "I forgive you."

Theon's eyes filled with tears and he stammered, "No.. You don't have to.. I  know it was unforgivable.. I didn't mean that.." _What did he mean?_ "I do not- I don't know why I said all of that Sansa. Please.. I didn't mean to upset you m’lady. I'm sorry-"

“Stop saying you're sorry. Don't you dare say you're sorry to me!" She said with with such force for a brief moment she reminded him of Yara. When she spoke again the words tumbled out of her between shuddering sobs she tried in vain to hold back, “This- all of this is _my_ fault Theon. I blamed you but I shouldn't have. I’m the one that left. I wanted to go to King’s Landing, I wanted to marry my galant prince even though I knew what he was. I chose him over my sister- I lied for him- and I’ll- I’ll never see her again! It was _my_ fault my father died. I begged him to confess. They told me if he confessed he could take the black. And I- I believed them. If it hadn’t been for me none of us would have ever left Winterfell. You would never have gone back to your father and my family- my family would still be alive. I was there when they killed him, Theon. I wasn't able to stop it- I just sobbed and begged and fainted like a stupid, silly little girl-”

She sank to her feet gasping and sobbing. Theon's arms were around her faster than he could prevent himself and she folded into him, shaking and shuddering. As he held her, he whispered soothing words into her ear and stroked her fiery Tully hair. “I’m here Sansa. I’m here little Sansa- don’t cry” he spoke in comforting cadence of their childhood. In the early days, she had run to him the most often when upset until Lady Catelyn had put a stop to it. It had always made him feel so special and grown up- a true older brother. “You _were_ only a little girl Sansa,” he continued. His heart broke when he thought about how young she had been when she watched Lord Stark’s beheading. “A kind, innocent little girl in horrible situation. It is not your fault. None of this could ever be your fault, sweetling.”

The idea of Sansa blaming herself for any of this shocked him and sent his mind reeling. The constant guilt he lived with was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. It sliced at his heart more harshly than Ramsay's flaying knife. But it was deserved after all he had done. The idea that Sansa, an innocent, felt the same guilt. It was wrong. It was so unfair. “It is not your fault" he repeated, "Sansa, please don’t take these sins on your shoulders. Don’t take _my_ sins on your shoulders. You are innocent Sansa. You are pure and good.”

Sansa looked up at him, her eyes lost and hollow. She shook her head as she said in a low voice, “No I’m not. There’s darkness in me now. When I look in the mirror, I can’t even find myself. I don’t think my Mother would even know me if she saw me again.” Theon nodded with understanding, the knot of tears in his throat preventing him from responding. He could have spoken the same words about himself.

“Did you know I was the one who killed him?” The way she said _him_ left no doubt who Sansa was talking about. “I fed him to his own hounds.” He almost couldn’t comprehend what she was telling him. It was as if she had ceased speaking the common tongue. Ramsay fed to his own hounds... He could only gaze at her in awe. “I smiled when he died” she confessed. “Do you think I am a monster?” Theon slowly shook his head. He was transfixed. “I think I might be,” she said. “I thought I would be relieved and I was at first but...” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I still dream about him. He said he would always be a part of me- and he was right. I didn’t kill him like Father. I killed him like a Bolton. I did it like I was made of steel. I took back Winterfell with Jon- I’m finally home. And yet...” she took another ragged breath, “I have never felt so... truly lost.” Theon cringed at her words... _Ser Rodrick’s words_... The tears threatened to fall again as her eyes bore into his, “I’m afraid it will always be like this,” she whispered. “That even back here- home- with Ramsay dead... I’ll always be lost. I’ll always be... alone.”

He took her gloved hands between his own. "Not alone." He said. "You're not alone. And you've never been anything but beautiful, pure and good." She smiled slightly through her tears as she lay her head against him and gave him a soft kiss on his shoulder, settling into the warmth of his arms. He was wearing many layers but that small kiss penetrated deep into his being. If only he could say more. If only he could lay his sword at her feet and swear to protect her until his last day... But he had proven to everyone how worthless his oaths were. He could never be absolved no matter what good he did now. So he held her and said nothing. It began to snow. He held her closer.

"Thank you," Sansa murmured. "This reminds me of the old days. Remember? You use to steal me lemon cakes and sneak them to me here when I was upset. You told me if I was caught I was to say Jon gave them to me."

Theon almost smiled. He couldn't believe she remembered that. "Yes, I was a right little shit in those days.... I'm sorry I don't have any lemon cakes right now." Sansa laughed softly. Theon didn't laugh but it made him happy that she could. He wished it were the old days. He had been so much stronger and bigger than her. Now he felt inadequate and frail. He was small and crippled while she was a regal, towering beauty. He was as in awe of her as he had been of her mother when he first arrived at Winterfell as a boy. How he had craved Lady Catelyn's love back then. Her smile. The snow was coming down harder and he felt Sansa shiver against him. He knew their moment of easiness with each other had passed and he had no right to continue to touch her, to hold her like this.

"You're shivering, m'lady... Let me escort you back in doors. You need to get warm." Sansa looked at him sadly. She looked as though she might say something but then thought better of it. She smiled warmly at him instead. She rose easily and helped him to his feet, concerned to see that he still winced with pain at the effort. She then linked her arm through his and they walked out of the Godswood together.


	2. Chapter 2

Theon walked with Sansa all the way to her chambers. When he got outside the door he suddenly realized. _Ned Stark's room._ The room he had slept in when he took Winterfell. It had been Roose’s when the Bolton's held it. He tried not to visibly cringe. She turned to him as she opened the doors and beckoned him inside, "Come in Theon. The fire is still burning, you must warm yourself." 

He stepped inside shakily. _I shouldn't be here. I dishonor this place._ He didn't go any farther than the frame of the door. Sansa took their cloaks and outer layers and laid them out by the fire and lit a few more candles. Her movements were pretty and birdlike as she fussed to make things more comfortable. She had always been more bird than wolf, he thought. She came back to Theon who was still standing in the door.

"Theon, would you sit with me? I could use the company if you wouldn't mind." Her voice was soft and sweet as if she were coaxing a small, timid child out of a hiding place. He nodded and took her hand as she led him to the bed and helped him to sit down with her. As he sank into the soft sheets with Sansa he couldn't help but wonder what Lady Catelyn would say about them being alone together in Sansa's chamber. Such a thing would never have been tolerated and he almost laughed to think of the severe thrashing he would have received for it. His heart fell when he realized how little those rules mattered now in his present state. He wasn't a man anymore after all. 

"Are you feeling better?" He asked anxiously. He never wanted to see her hurting the way she had been in the Godswood again.

"I am now. Thank you.” She said as she began to help him off with his gloves and boots which he reluctantly allowed her to do, trying to suppress the sinking embarrassment he felt as his hands and feet were revealed. She gently took one of his mangled hands to her lips and gave it a sorrowful kiss. She then spirited away the gloves and boots to the fire before he could react to what she had done.

“Thank you for staying with me.” She said as she returned to the bed, “Jon insisted I take this room but I find I can never sleep here. Too many memories... Mother and Father’s room..."

"I understand," Theon said, "I could never sleep well here either. I always had nightmares of..." But he trailed off when he noticed her surprised look. Of course she hadn't known he’d ever slept in this room. She hadn’t imagined those small details such as where he would have slept after taking Winterfell and killing her brothers. _No, no they were two farm boys... We burned their bodies so no one would know... brothers.. Now and always.. the older one should always protect the younger..._

"Theon?" Her hand squeezed his. "You were muttering something. Are you alright?" He closed his eyes and attempted to steady his mind.

"Yes. I'm sorry... It has been happening again since we returned to the North.. You shouldn’t worry. I’m fine. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said. "I should have realized that you would have slept here when you held Winterfell... Please go on" she said, kindly. Lady Sansa, ever remembering her courtesies even with traitors and murderers. He would have laughed but he felt like he was going to be sick instead.

"I would have nightmares of... Robb,” he confessed. Speaking Robb’s name always made him recoil with a shame and sorrow deeper than the black pool in the Godswood. He really didn’t trust himself to say anymore and was grateful when she spoke after a moment.

"For what it's worth. I don't think Robb could have executed you. I think he would have forgiven you. Let you take the black."

"I never wished forgiveness from Robb. I wished a quick death by his hand countless times- the opportunity to tell him I was sorry- that Bran and Rickon were still alive somewhere... _were_ alive.... " He trailed off in misery at the thought of Rickon’s death.

"Still. I know Robb. He wasn't like Father, though he tried to be. He didn't act rashly but he thought with his heart. He wouldn't have killed you- to him it would have been the same as kinslaying. He loved you, Theon."

"Yes, and I betrayed the only person here who ever loved me."

"Not the only person,” she said quietly as she touched his hand again.

Theon looked up at her in disbelief as they both suddenly crashed into each other, kissing deeply and desperately. Clinging to each other for courage. Tears were running down Sansa's face and into their kiss. She tasted like dreams and innocence and salt. Sansa tasted like the sea.

Theon broke away panting. "I'm sorry.." Had he lost his mind? Sansa laughed through her tears. "Why? I'm the one who kissed you." Was she? He had been so certain that he had initiated it. Theon looked at her with longing, the way he had once looked at Pyke- growing smaller and smaller until it was out if reach. "Thank you," he said, wonderment and confusion in his voice.

Sansa smiled and said hesitantly, "It doesn't have to end.."

"It does." He said firmly.

She took his hand but did not look at him. "The alliance between our houses would only be strengthened by marriage..."

She couldn't mean it. She couldn't be serious. "Sansa, I'm not worthy of you. You know I’m not worthy of you." It hurt to say it. Even now his mind began to flood with memories of all the times he had thought he might be promised to Sansa in his youth. He would have been an inadequate husband back then- inconsiderate, selfish. Now he was even more unfit.

She clasped his hands more fervently and looked into his eyes, "Do you really hate yourself so much?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"No." She said the words firmly and steadily. "Theon you saved my life. You gave yourself up for me. It was the greatest act of bravery I have ever seen. You don't owe us anything- not anymore. I know I was horrible to you growing up. But I've changed. I'm not a child anymore. I've been a bastard like Jon. I've been a hostage like you. I know what it means to be separated from your family, to fear for your life at the hands of those you live with. To smile and _smile_ and call your own family traitors-" She looked at him fiercely as her voice began to tighten. She took a breath. "I know what it feels like to become friends with your enemies. I grew to love Margaery and I swore a vow to Lord Tyrion. But I would have betrayed them without question if I thought it could help my own family."

He could only gaze at her. It was true. She was no little bird anymore. She was more wolf than she had ever been. She had survived. She had killed. But she was still so innocent in a way. Still so trusting. It was remarkable and it shamed him. Suddenly the image of what he could have been- the honorable man Robb had believed him to be- collided with what he was and he couldn't face her anymore. He struggled to rise to his feet and cross the room. He couldn't bear her oppressive sweetness. The softness of her touch.

"I'm sorry..." he began, his back to her. It was all he had to offer her now. Apologies. Useless apologies. "Sansa. You do me great honor and it is more than I could ever deserve but it's not just that I betrayed your family. It's more than that... I ... Mast- Ramsay, he...."

"I know” she said with understanding.

"You don’t know.”

“Theon- don't you understand? I don’t care about your scars. I have them too. We can help each other. It would be easier with each other than with strangers, don't you think? We wouldn't have to be ashamed of our scars with each other."

Theon began laughing softly at her words. He hadn't laughed in years and he couldn't say why he was laughing now. Perhaps because of Sansa's ignorance about the extent of his scars. Perhaps because he couldn't believe how low Sansa had fallen in her life that _he_ should seem the best option for her. _Poor, proud Sansa._ His laughter grew until it became a high pitched giggling. He began to raise his ruined hands to cover his ruined teeth but the irony of the gesture made him laugh all the harder. He knew it was incredibly inappropriate- cruel even- to be reacting to her offer in this manner, but he was incapable of stopping. He stood before her helpless and grotesque, giggling like a frightened madman.

Sansa's blue eyes shone bright with tears of frustration and embarrassment. She stood quickly and looked past him as she spoke. "Theon, it was not easy to say the things I just did. It wasn't easy and I meant everything I said sincerely. Forgive me if I misread the situation."

Her tone was ice. He had hurt her. He desperately tried to calm his giggling. "I know- I know," he said trying to gasp back the laughter which was turning into something more like sobs with the effort. "Sansa, please listen. I have to make you understand. You don't know what you are asking..." He took a deep breath. This was the last time she would ever think of him as a man.

"Sansa what Ramsay did to me- it was more than just flaying..." She turned those luminous eyes back on his. He swallowed painfully and went on, "I can't be a husband to you." _Was she understanding?_ "I can't give you children." He searched her eyes but saw no dawn of understanding there. He would be forced to say everything. No less than he deserved. He broke her gaze. "He took my... I'm not- I'm not a man anymore." He whispered the last part as if that might make it less real. He raised his eyes to meet hers again and instantly wished he had not for the look of horror on her face was devastating. He turned away from her, wishing that the darkness of the room could swallow him completely.

The silence was long and excruciating. Then Sansa said in a voice full of sorrow, "Oh, Theon." He was too humiliated to look at her again. To see the pity and worse, the disgust she would try to hide. He thought to take his leave but then she said carefully, "Perhaps that doesn’t matter to me..."

His head snapped up and he stared at her incredulously. "You- you can't be serious" he blurted out.

"Theon, I use to dream of having children- of marrying Joffrey and bearing him golden haired babies... but Joffrey was a monster and Ramsay... even worse. I don't think I could go through another wedding night... I don't know if I really want to bring children into this world- or if I am even able to. Jon will have sons and they can inherit Winterfell and the North. The Queen will legitimize him. I use to want to be Queen. Now I just want to be able to sleep at night. I want live with people I love and trust and to protect what's left of my family. And you- you are part of that family, Theon."

He wasn't sure why her words of love and acceptance hurt him the way they did but he felt as though his heart was being stripped away. His neck felt painfully tight- as if he still had Ramsay’s collar around it. It was almost unbearable to breath and when he began to speak he felt as though he was being strangled. "Sansa, you don't know what you are saying." His words were harsh and bitter but she needed to hear it. "You deserve so much more. To have come this far- to have survived so much just to marry another monster- it's ludicrous!"

"You're not- "

"A monster, yes! Yes.... There isn't a person I've known that I've not harmed in some way. I've betrayed every single person I've ever loved. And... I've murdered children, Sansa. I killed two little innocent children. I can never atone for that. I shouldn’t be able to atone for that. What kind of evil person does something like that? I earned everything he did to me. I deserve this. I deserve to have this ruined body. I deserve to look as twisted and ugly as I am inside- cruel and cowardly and- you say I saved you but I didn't. You were the one who saved me. You brought out the only goodness I had. It was buried so deeply that even Ramsay couldn't flay it out. But I'm not a good man, Sansa. I'm not even a man at all-"

As his voice began to break, he felt her strong, sure arms encircle him. "You are a man" she said firmly. "You are my man. Now and always. Forever." With a wretched sob he put his face against her shoulder and wept. She led him gently back to the bed. They sank down into the softness and she kept her arms around him. He couldn’t hide his tears from her so he let himself cry softly against her until the painful tightness in his throat began to relax and he began to breath evenly again.

They stayed that way for a long time wrapped in each other’s arms. Sansa's hair smelled like Robb's. Her arms felt like home. Eventually, Sansa pulled the blankets up and settled down against the pillows, gently coaxing Theon down with her as if they'd done this a thousand times. He didn't struggle. He was too exhausted. And though he didn't deserve it, he wanted to stay in the comfort of her arms for as long as he was allowed. After awhile Sansa said, "You'll think about the marriage then?" Theon burst out laughing again. He couldn't help it. She laughed as well this time at least.

"No... You deserve better. Someone good like Jon... or Robb," he said softly. "But I will be your loyal friend until my last day if you will have me. You will always have a friend in the Iron Islands.”

“I wish I knew more about the Iron Islands...” Sansa said.

“Perhaps you will visit one day when these wars are over. You will pay us a royal visit as Queen in the North.”

“It is Jon they will crown.”

“Jon is a brave and noble. He is a better man than I could ever be. But it is you that should rule. I will support his legitimacy of course, if that is what you wish. But you will always be the Queen in the North to me.”

She smiled slightly. “Jon is a fierce warrior. I can help him, I think, with what he lacks in strategy. We both have strengths that are the other’s weaknesses.”

“Jon is like your Salt King,” Theon mused.

“My Salt King?”

“It was a title used in the Age of Heroes- each of the Iron Islands had two kings- a rock king who ruled the island itself and a salt king who ruled at sea and in battle... Jon seems like he would be a perfect Salt King to your Rock.”

Sansa smiled contentedly. “Will you tell me more about your home?”

Theon shifted awkwardly next to her. “To be honest, I don’t really know that much. I always talked a big game when I was young... but all I really knew was what I remembered from childhood. And what Maester Luwin taught us. I remembered The Iron Islands much differently than what it is truly like.”

“Would you tell me what you remember? What does Pyke look like?” She entwined her fingers around his remaining ones and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Well... it might not compare to Winterfell or The Red Keep... but to me it has always looked magical. It's not really one castle but many towers connected together by swinging bridges which makes it look like a Merling's castle rising up from the sea. Yara would scoff at my description I know but, I think you might like it. Especially if you saw Pyke on a clear day with the mists around it and the sun gleaming off the majestic bronze statue on its shores.

“What is the statue? A kraken?” she murmered, a smile on her face.

“No... It’s a legendary maiden warrior from the North, actually.” He took the liberty of brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. “She is famous for slaying a vile monster.”

“I don’t remember her from Septa Mordane’s stories. It seems like someone Arya would have gone on about.”

“Well, she hasn’t been built yet actually... but hopefully you will see her one day, when you sail into Pyke..."

"I would like that" she said sleepily.

"I would too." He smiled at her, keeping his mouth closed so as not to repel her with his broken teeth.

“I love your smile now," she said. "It’s not as broad as it use to be but it is incredibly... _kind_.”

He didn’t know what to say in return. It was the first time someone had complimented anything about his appearance since... since. Her eyes fluttered and she seemed ready to drift off to sleep.

“You are tired My Lady. I will leave you to sleep.”

“No!” She started up. “Would you stay with me a little longer? Please? It is so difficult for me to sleep these days, and I feel safe with you here.”

“I will stay with you until you are sleeping," he promised. She smiled with relief and settled back into him.

The embers in the fire were almost burned down and the snow was still falling softly outside the window. He pulled the furs up around her delicate shoulders and kept watch over her. As her breathing became more steady he thought she might already be asleep until she spoke again.

"Theon?" She asked hesitantly. "Will you tell me the truth about something?"

"Always."

"In the Godswood... you weren't.. I mean. You wouldn't try to do any harm to yourself would you?"

He was silent for a moment wondering whether to burden her again. But he had promised to tell her the truth. "I did think about it. It- it's not considered weak to do so in Ironborn Culture. It can be a point of honor in fact- especially if people would be better off without you.... but I won't do that, no." The truth was that he did not feel like he had the right to end his own life. He'd been through too many horrors to see death as anything other than the mercy it was. And he did not deserve mercy. The Gods were not finished with him. Bran wasn't finished with him. "I think Bran is trying to contact me..." he began hesitantly... "I thought I saw his face in the Heart Tree. I thought I heard him call out my name the night.... the night of the wedding.”

Sansa turned toward him but it was her turn to be silent. Finally she said, “I miss him.”

“I know.”

“Theon. Promise me you won’t die. You won’t get it in your head to make some sort of sacrifice with your life. Because I wouldn't be better off without you, Theon. No one would be better off without you. You are the reason we are all here right now. Theon please, I couldn't bear to lose another member of my family."

Theon wondered if it were even possible to die. He'd wished for it so often in his short life, yet death was a kindness that seemed to forever elude him. Perhaps living was the harsher sentence. Condemned to witness the deaths of loved ones while he survived. It was a fate that terrified him. But she had called him her family. _A Stark at last._ He would live with his guilt for her. He pulled her closer and promised, “Lady Sansa, if you will accept the promise of an oathbreaker, I swear I will do everything in my power to stay alive for you.”

She seemed contented and settled back against him with a soft “Thank you." She had no idea what that promise cost him. Dying for her would have been easy. Living for her was the harder task. Yet as he watched her sleeping, his heart began filling with a lightness that almost felt like hope. As the embers died out he smoothed her hair of fire and kissed her forehead gently- he didn’t think it would do any harm. 

He never meant to fall asleep beside her but sleep finally pulled him under into the kind of dreamless depths that only innocents were allowed to enjoy. As the sky began to pale with the new day, Sansa and Theon slept peacefully in each others arms.


End file.
